


The Stormtrooper's Virgin Pilot

by imaginary_golux



Series: Harlequin [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Competent Finn, Demisexuality, Explicit Consent, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9695675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: Ex-Stormtrooper Finn has fled the dreadful clutches of the First Order, but adjusting to his new life in the Resistance isn’t as easy as he might hope.Commander Poe Dameron is a bold pilot, a loyal soldier, and a good friend. But he has never before encountered someone who makes him feel the way Finn does - and he’s honestly not sure what to do!Or: Poe’s not entirely sure why he keeps casting himself as the romance heroine in this little drama. He’s not usually given to swooning, after all.Beta by my ever-wonderful Best Beloved, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw.





	1. Chapter 1

Poe has never quite understood the trope, so common in books and holovids, of people who will abandon all sense and sanity in favor of sex. Heroines who _hate_ the heroes and yet cannot help but swoon into their arms; protagonists who throw honor and vows to the wind in order to have affairs. Poe’s kissed people before - people who were very good at kissing, objectively - and while he’s enjoyed it well enough, it’s never been the sort of overwhelming, sense-destroying experience that most media makes it out to be, and he’s never felt compelled to do any more than kissing, no matter how skilled his partner.

Poe’s been working on the assumption that either the media is wrong, wrong, wrong - which is quite likely - or, perhaps, he just isn’t as interested in sex as the general population. Which is also possible. He’s just never met anyone who makes his heart beat too fast and his breath come too quick and all his sense fly out the window, and he’s met enough people that if that was _going_ to happen, well, it ought to have happened already, right?

Poe’s pretty sure he should apologize to every single fictional character he has mentally screamed, ‘For the Force’s sake get a _grip_!’ at. Because in the six weeks since Finn has woken up and begun to make himself an integral part of the Resistance, Poe has grown steadily more sure that if Finn kissed him - if Finn put his broad dextrous hands in Poe’s hair and held him still and _kissed_ him, like Poe was some holovid heroine - Poe would probably swoon right into his arms and beg to be fucked, just like all the characters he’s scoffed at over the years.

It’s more than just the fact that Finn is objectively _gorgeous_ , though - more even than the fact that he has a brilliant tactical mind and a talent for seeing things just that little bit differently than everyone else, more even than the incredible competence Finn shows on the shooting range or the sparring court - more than _all_ of that, it’s the way Finn’s soul shines in everything he does, blazing with the Light, that makes Poe - makes Poe love him.

Poe’s...moderately sure that if he said something about this to Finn, Finn _would_ kiss him - well, would _want_ to kiss him, anyhow. But if Poe Dameron, with every opportunity in the world to figure out what he likes in bed, has never quite managed to acquire a sexual partner, mostly for lack of interest, then where the hell would _Finn_ , ex-Stormtrooper hero, have gotten any experience? And two virgins in one bed, Poe is pretty sure, is about one too many.

*

And Poe would probably have gone on thinking that for quite a while, except that at the next all-base party Snap and Jess come listing over, drinks in hand, to where Poe and Finn are sitting just quietly watching the dancing, and Snap says, “Finn, old buddy old pal! We need you to settle a bet for us.”

Finn raises an eyebrow in fine skeptical style - he has been around Snap long enough by now to know that he should be very worried by such an enthusiastic greeting - and says, “Oh?”

“Do Stormtroopers have sex?” Snap asks.

Finn blinks, then grins. “Of course they do,” he says, shrugging. “Why wouldn’t they? We had rec twice a week.” He shrugs again, clearly not seeing anything odd in having just - if Poe is translating correctly - admitted to having twice-weekly orgies for most of his adult life. “I was pretty good at it,” he adds, and Snap guffaws appreciatively and slaps Finn on the shoulder and goes staggering off with Jess to where the rest of the pilots are clearly waiting eagerly for the answer to their question. There’s a roar of laughter when they finally reach the table, and Poe sees people handing Kare stacks of credits. Clever woman.

The thing is, Poe can tell Finn isn’t lying - not about the twice-weekly orgies _or_ about being good at sex. Finn is _spectacularly_ bad at lying: he has tells that can be seen a lightyear away. If he’d been lying, Poe would know. Which means he _wasn’t_. Which means -

Oh dear.

Poe has a sudden, vivid mental image of offering himself to Finn as a virgin sacrifice, pure and untouched. Hells, as long as Poe is apparently playing the part of a romance heroine - he can just see himself in a diaphanous white shirt, sprawled out on a bed, looking up at Finn through his eyelashes and breathing, “Please, be gentle?” as Finn smiles down at him with dark and hungry eyes. Um. That image probably shouldn’t be quite as appealing as it is.

Finn laughs and settles back in his chair. “What an odd question!” he says, grinning at Poe.

“Well,” Poe says, forcing his mind back onto less obscene pathways, “a lot of us suspected they’d just give you all suppressants, or something.”

“Huh,” Finn says thoughtfully. “Actually, that’d make a lot of sense, come to think of it. Well, I’m glad they didn’t. Sometimes rec was the only part of the week that didn’t hurt!”

Poe winces. “I guess I’m glad, then, that that’s how they do it,” he admits. “I don’t like to think about the sort of shit you must have gone through.”

“Mostly it wasn’t too bad,” Finn says meditatively, looking down into his drink as though he’ll find answers to life’s great questions hidden there. “I mean, it was hard work - they drilled us till we dropped, and we certainly didn’t have rest days, much less parties like _this_ \- but really the worst part was the loneliness. Nobody touches anyone, in the First Order, or talks to each other like - like you talk to me. That’s why I got so good at sex; the better I was, the more people chose me as a partner, and the more people I could _touch_ during rec. That was the only time you could touch without being reprimanded, once you got out of the creche.”

“...Damn,” says Poe softly. He’s never been touch-deprived in his _life_. His mother and father and extended raucous clan were never shy about giving out hugs and cuddles, and when he went away to flight school he never had trouble finding people to join platonic snuggle piles - they all huddled together like puppies in a basket to watch holos or cram for tests, and Poe was usually near the center of the huddle, as often as not with someone messing with his hair. He’s never quite understood the fascination with it - it’s just hair - but it seems like nearly every friend he’s ever had has enjoyed playing with it, and Poe’s willing to go along as long as nobody starts yanking on it.

...Would Finn like his hair? Finn doesn’t initiate touch very often, and Poe suspects he’s just figured out why, but he reciprocates gladly. He’s nearly picked Poe up a couple times, in enthusiastic hugs, and he likes holding hands more than anyone else Poe has ever met. Poe shifts over until their shoulders are pressed together, testing his new theory about touch-starvation, and Finn leans against him instantly, with a soft sigh of contentment. Well, that seems pretty conclusive.

They sit there quietly, watching the dancers and laughing at the drunken antics of Poe’s pilot, until the party winds down in the wee hours of the morning, and then Poe gathers up Jess and Snap and herds them safely back to the pilots’ wing while Finn does the same for a couple of his trainees - Major Brance snapped him up as a training instructor pretty much as soon as they’d all seen how terrifyingly competent Finn was, and Finn divides his time between that and sitting in on intelligence briefings, most days. It suits him, both being a teacher and advising at meetings. He’s smart and he thinks outside the box and he has _lots_ of useful information tucked away in that lovely head of his.

And then, even though it is so late it’s early and Poe has to get up to fly a reconnaissance in the morning, Poe lies awake staring at the ceiling in the darkness and thinking of Finn’s terrifying competence as applied to sex.

More specifically, as applied to sex with _Poe_. Dear Force, the mental images alone…

But would Finn even be interested? This new information changes some things. Finn is used to twice-weekly orgies, after all. What is there to catch his eye about a virgin pilot nearly a decade his senior? Surely he’d be more interested in cutting a swath through the willing young people on the base, of which there are many who would be _more_ than happy to help with such a project, given Finn’s general heroism and startling attractiveness.

What does Poe have to offer that they could not offer in far greater abundance and skill - except perhaps his heart?

And would Finn even want his heart, if Poe ever dared to offer?

*

Finn goes on his very first mission for the Resistance: a scouting run, with a couple of Pathfinders to back him up, investigating rumors of a new First Order advance base in a system far too close to a New Republic branch for comfort. Poe is so proud to see Finn coming into his own, and so very worried about his safety, that he can’t manage to find the right words, just claps Finn on the shoulder and says, “Come back safe, buddy.” Finn smiles at him, bright and beautiful, and Poe wants desperately to have the courage to say more - but while Poe is very good at going out to get shot at, he is discovering he is far less talented at putting his heart on the line.

Finn’s scouting mission is radio silent, of course - no point leading the First Order right to them, or right to the new Resistance base, either. They’re meant to be gone for a week.

A week passes. Poe flies drills, and fixes his X-Wing, and fills out paperwork, and spends time with his pilots, helping the newbies integrate with the old established hands. He manages to forget to worry about Finn sometimes for ten minutes at a time, even. He’s quite proud of himself.

A week and a day. Well, scouting runs sometimes do run over the prearranged time limit. Poe’s had that happen - goodness knows he was late back from Jakku, after all.

A week and two days. Surely if they’ve gotten in trouble _one_ of them would have gotten a comm message out?

A week and three days. The First Order would be gloating if they’d caught the scouting mission, right? So Poe would _know_ if Finn had been caught or killed. Which - kriff, Poe doesn’t even know which would be worse: to know that Finn had been killed on a minor scouting mission in the middle of nowhere, or to imagine him caught and reconditioned, made into a perfect Stormtrooper again, all the wonderful _Finn-ness_ of him wiped away like it had never been.

Poe has to go and be quietly sick in the refresher after he thinks of _that_. But - Finn broke through the programming once. He did the impossible _once_. Surely - surely, if the worst _has_ happened, if he is trapped again in white plastisteel and mindless obedience, he will break through again? Surely. Surely.

And in any case, three days is not _so_ long overdue. Right?

...Right?


	2. Chapter 2

Poe wakes from a fitful, nightmare-filled sleep to the sound of someone pounding on his door. “Get your ass down to the landing field, Dameron!” Jess yells from outside. “Your boy came back!”

Poe claws his way out of the tangled sheets and thumps to the floor, stopping just barely long enough to shove his feet into his boots before he’s sprinting out of his bedroom, BB-8 on his heels, heading for the tarmac at the best speed he can manage. Pajamas and untied boots are perhaps not perfectly regulation attire, but damned if Poe is going to take long enough to put clothing on - not when Finn is home at last.

The shuttle comes down slow and easy over the landing field, and Poe is not the only person standing there half-dressed and disheveled. Finn is pretty universally loved, these days, and of course there are the Pathfinders with him, too, whose lovers and friends are crowded around waiting with bated breath to see if the scouts have all returned alive. Poe rather thinks that more than half the base has turned out to see the returning scouts, all told, which is fairly impressive.

The Pathfinders and the shuttle pilot come streaming out the doors as soon as the shuttle touches down, and then, behind them, Finn pauses in the doorway for just a moment, silhouetted perfectly, and then catches sight of Poe in the crowd below and grins, wide and bright, and comes trotting down the ramp straight towards Poe. Jess nudges Poe hard, and Poe stumbles forward into the cleared space around the shuttle; Finn reaches him just as he’s catching his balance, and snatches him up in a hug that knocks the breath out of Poe, so that all he can do is cling to Finn as Finn swings him around in a triumphant circle.

And Poe - well, his excuse, if anyone asks, is that it’s too kriffing early and also that a hug like that is a lover’s greeting, not a friend’s. Poe takes Finn’s face in his hands and kisses him as well as he knows how, trying desperately to remember _everything_ those long-ago kisses taught him.

And then his brain catches up with him and he tries to pull away, suddenly realizing what he’s doing, and Finn pulls him back and takes his mouth in a kiss that blows every single one of those half-remembered kisses entirely out of space. Faintly, Poe can hear Jess and BB-8 both cheering, but that and everything else takes distinctly second place to the glorious, mind-blowing kiss.

Poe’s not sure how long it’s been when Finn finally pulls away just far enough to rest their foreheads together, but he’s pretty sure he’s only still standing because of Finn’s warm arms around him. His knees are sort of terrifyingly shaky, and he mentally apologizes to every romance heroine who has ever swooned into her lover’s arms, because yeah, swooning might actually be on the table if Finn lets go of him. Or kisses him like that again.

“Poe,” Finn says, softly, sounding happier than Poe thinks he’s ever heard Finn sound before.

“Finn,” Poe says, not sure what else he’s going to say, and Finn’s smile is brighter than the sunrise.

Someone clears their throat next to the embrace which has somehow become the entirety of Poe’s universe, and Poe jumps a foot; Finn startles slightly less. They both turn to look down at General Organa, who is smiling up at them.

“Not that I really want to interrupt, gentlemen, but I rather need to debrief one of you,” she says dryly, and Poe can feel himself flushing pink to the tips of his ears. But Finn just smiles.

“Right away, General,” he says, and Poe takes a moment to marvel at how much more self-confident Finn has gotten in the last six weeks, when just before Starkiller he was so clearly _terrified_ of the General and fighting through it for the sake of what had to be done.

And then Finn turns and kisses Poe again, one swift searing kiss that leaves Poe reeling, and then goes trotting off after the General in the steady ground-eating lope that the Pathfinders all learn.

Poe stands there with the fingers of one hand pressed to his lips - _kiss-swollen_ , he thinks, and marvels - and blinks dazedly after Finn until Jess waves a hand in front of his eyes. She and BB-8 are both laughing, Poe sees when he gets his bearings back.

“Oh, shush, you,” he says weakly, which just makes Jess laugh harder.

“C’mon, Commander,” she says through her giggles. “Something tells me you’re gonna want to have real clothing on the next time you see your sweetheart.”

Poe sighs and scrubs a hand over his face and nods. “Yeah, you’re right,” he says, and then hugs her around the shoulders. “Thanks.”

“You idiot,” Jess says fondly. “We’ve all been waiting for you to figure this out.” She frowns at him. “You _have_ figured it out, right? No more pining?”

“I...I think so?” Poe says. Jess sighs at him.

Poe really can’t blame her.

*

Poe does, in fact, go back to his room and put actual clothing on, because yeah, now that he’s slightly less overwhelmed with relief and delight, he’s feeling a little silly about charging around the base in his pajamas. Not enough to _regret_ it, mind you, just enough to put some real clothes on before he ventures out to the mess hall.

All the pilots cheer and slap him on the back when he sits down, of course - expecting them not to give him shit for kissing Finn in the middle of the tarmac is about like expecting the sun not to rise, and has roughly the same chance of success - but they also have a plate ready for him, so Poe figures he’ll forgive them and not call drills in the middle of the night for a week straight. They always forget that option is on the table.

And then he retreats to his room and does his very best to immerse himself in paperwork so that he won’t think too hard about what might happen when Finn gets out of his debriefing. It was just a kiss, right? Maybe Finn didn’t mean anything by it - it’s not like they really _said_ anything, after all - maybe Finn kisses a lot of people like that, and Poe’s just never heard about it because everyone’s too nice to mention to him that the man he’s so obviously in love with has a person in every port.

Okay, that’s not _terribly_ likely, because apart from this mission Finn hasn’t left the base since they moved here from D’Qar, but still: there are _plenty_ of people in the Resistance who would be more than happy to...spend some private time with the hero of Starkiller. Poe can’t even blame them. 

There’s a _lot_ of paperwork - Poe’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have accepted the promotion to Commander if anyone had warned him about the paperwork - and he actually does manage to get into the flow of it, for once, concentrating so furiously on filling in every finicky line and box that he doesn’t actually notice time passing. He’s mildly surprised, when he gets up at one point to get himself a glass of water, to find that he’s gotten at least halfway through the backlog of less-urgent paperwork that always builds up while he’s doing more important things (flying, saving the galaxy, you know, the little things in life). The General’s aides will be happy. They’re always after Poe to get his paperwork done.

It’s late afternoon and the backlog is almost entirely dealt with - Poe is sort of vaguely proud of himself - when someone knocks on the door. Poe jumps and fumbles his datapad, catching it before it can hit the ground, and puts it very carefully on the table before turning to look at the door in sudden panic. That’s probably Finn, and what is Poe going to _say_? Or do? Or -?

“Poe?” Finn’s voice comes through the door. “Can I come in? Jess says you’ve been holed up in there all day.”

“Come in,” Poe croaks, and grabs his half-empty glass of water, draining it in a sudden desperate effort to ease his dry mouth.

And then Finn is framed in the doorway, all hundred and seventy-five glorious centimeters of him, smiling so wide it lights the room, and Poe sits there frozen on his bunk and tries desperately to come up with something - _anything_ \- to say that isn’t, ‘I’m madly in love with you, please love me back.’

Finn blinks at him for a moment, then crosses the room in two long stride and sinks to his knees in front of Poe, gathering Poe’s hands in his and gazing up at him worriedly. “Are you alright?” he asks. “I didn’t - kriff, is it - should I not have kissed you?”

 _That_ gets through the burgeoning panic, and Poe goes tumbling out of his bed to land on his knees in front of Finn and throws his arms around the other man. “No, no, nothing like that, buddy,” he babbles desperately, because kriff, Finn should not be worried about this - Finn should _never_ be worried about how Poe feels about him. “I just - it just - you’re so -”

Poe’s words are usually his best tools, his first weapons and last defences, and now he can’t find _any_ of them. But Finn chuckles, low and sweet, and pulls back just far enough to take Poe’s face in his hands and rest their foreheads together. “Breathe,” he suggests.

Poe huffs a laugh and takes a slow, deep breath, then another, pulling his scattered thoughts together. “You should _definitely_ have kissed me,” he says at last, and Finn smiles. “It was - sort of overwhelming, but in a really good way.”

“Yeah?” Finn says, smile widening, and then pulls Poe forward very gently into a slow, easy, languorous kiss. It’s gentle and warm and almost drugging in its sweetness, and Poe braces his hands on Finn’s thighs and leans into Finn’s hands. “So that’s okay?” Finn checks, some uncounted time later, his breath warm on Poe’s lips.

“So very okay,” Poe says faintly.

“Jess said I should ask you to marry me,” Finn says, sounding warmly amused, and Poe’s eyes snap open - he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them - in shock and hope. “Snap said that might be moving a little too fast, even for us. So. Will you be my boyfriend, Poe?”

“Yes,” says Poe, before he can even think about it, and then he _does_ think about it and says, “Yes - yes, of course yes!”

“Oh good,” Finn says, and kisses him again. Poe is starting to put together a mental catalog of Finn’s kisses. There’s the kind from the tarmac, searing and all-encompassing, that leaves Poe gasping and overcome. There’s the brief sweet kind that makes Poe shiver with its intensity. There’s the long slow easy kind that feels like the best kind of drug. This is a new kind. This kiss is _hungry_ ; there are teeth involved. It’s fierce and demanding and consuming, and Poe finds himself clutching at Finn’s shoulders desperately, clinging to Finn as a rock of stability in a suddenly whirling universe. So this is what people mean when they talk about being carried away by a kiss - this is why all those romance heroines will throw away _anything_ for their true loves. Poe would probably do some pretty impressively stupid things to make Finn kiss him like this again.

He probably doesn’t _have_ to do stupid things, though. If they’re boyfriends, presumably Finn will kiss him anytime Poe likes. Poe’s head reels with the thought of how many _other_ kinds of kiss there might be - or maybe it’s just reeling because _this_ kiss is like the best daring, reckless flight Poe’s ever had, all swooping curves and adrenaline and excitement pooling in the pit of Poe’s stomach.

Poe’s gasping for breath by the time Finn breaks the kiss, and his eyes have closed again without his permission. Finn brushes gentle kisses over Poe’s cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose, and then murmurs, “Floor’s a little hard. Want to move to the bed?”

Poe gulps. “...Yes,” he says slowly, and Finn pulls back just a hair.

“We don’t have to,” he says carefully. “We could - sit down and talk, or go to the mess hall, or -”

“I _want_ to,” Poe says, getting his eyes open with an effort and then hauling himself up to sit on the edge of his bunk. Finn sits beside him, their shoulders pressed warmly together. “I just - um. You should probably know I’ve never actually gotten farther than kissing someone before.” He pauses for a moment, then adds hastily, “I _did_ have fairly comprehensive sex ed, I know the _theory_ perfectly well, I just never met anyone who was...who made me _want_ to do more than kissing. Until you.”

“Really,” says Finn. Poe can’t read his tone; he glances over to see the expression on Finn’s lovely face, and gulps. That’s Finn’s strategy face, his planning-a-campaign face, all focused concentration and determination. Having it aimed at _Poe_ is...actually strangely arousing. There’s a heat in Finn’s eyes that Poe hasn’t seen before, and Poe can’t help remembering that Finn is, apparently and by his own admission, very good at sex.

“Do you...mind?” Poe checks carefully. He’s heard all the jokes, after all, about forty-year-old virgins and about how no one as pretty as Poe could possibly be less than experienced in bed, and if Finn was expecting someone who - who knew what he was doing, then Poe doesn’t want to disappoint him.

“Do I mind,” Finn says thoughtfully. “Do I mind that you’ve chosen me, out of all the people in the galaxy? Do I mind that I’ll be the first person to - to touch you, to taste you, to see how beautiful you are in bed?”

Poe’s blushing again. “Alright, when you put it like that it sounds sort of silly,” he admits, and Finn chuckles.

“Honestly,” he says quietly, “I kind of like it.”

“Ah,” says Poe, and thinks about that for a minute, and then, teasing, “Really?”

Finn moves faster than Poe can quite follow, and Poe finds himself flat on his back on his bunk, Finn above him with a look on his face that Poe can only categorize as _desire_. “Really,” he says solemnly, and then he’s kissing Poe again, and oh - oh - this kiss blows every single one of their previous kisses out of space. Maybe it’s just that they’re on a _bed_ that makes this one so - mind-blowingly good. Poe hasn’t ever kissed anyone on a bed before. The weight and warmth of Finn’s body above him are new and terrifyingly good, something Poe didn’t even know he wanted until this moment.

Poe’s pretty sure he would have been willing to stay there forever, drowning in the sweet hunger of Finn’s kiss, if BB-8’s ‘go get dinner’ alarm hadn’t started beeping.

Poe has never regretted setting that alarm before, but he sure as _hell_ does now.


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner is actually a lot of fun, because they end up sitting with the other pilots and Finn’s Pathfinders and gossiping about the unclassified parts of the most recent mission, which apparently only went a _little_ bit completely kriffing wrong and also involved Finn shooting several near-impossible targets in a row and winning the undying friendship and admiration of the Pathfinders, which they express in ruthless teasing. Finn teases back with an easy poise that makes Poe want to kiss the laughter from his lips - and then makes Poe want to bang his head against the table until he stops thinking in romance cliches.

He doesn’t do _either_ , but it’s a near thing.

And then, as they’re leaving the mess hall, Finn says, quietly, “Would you - could I come back to your room? Or is that moving too fast?”

Poe, who admittedly would have said ‘yes’ just as fast if Finn _had_ asked to marry him instead of just date, takes a deep breath and says, “I’d like that, actually.”

Finn smiles broadly and takes Poe’s hand, and Poe lets himself enjoy the feeling of Finn’s fingers, his broad palm, the warmth and strength of him. Hand-holding was not on Poe’s list of things to do with a hypothetical partner _before_ , but it’s strangely soothing with Finn. So is the way their shoulders bump together now and then, the leather of the jacket stretched butter-soft and comfortable over Finn’s arms like it was always meant for him.

The door to Poe’s room closes behind them with a nearly-inaudible _snick_ , and Finn turns and gathers Poe into his arms and kisses him soft and slow and sweet. Poe kisses back as well as he can, trying hard to imitate the movements of Finn’s lips and tongue, and counts the soft sound that rumbles from Finn’s chest as a victory well won.

“You said you know the theory,” Finn says quietly after a while. “What do you want to do?”

Poe thinks about it for a minute, his mind providing him with a catalog of mental images from the little research he’s done, substituting Finn in for the nameless actors. At last he says, a little more faintly than he might have liked, “Surprise me.”

“Surprise you, hey?” Finn says softly. “Well. Alright. Almost everything I know how to do is easier if we’re naked.”

“Seems sensible,” Poe agrees, grinning, and while he’s more than a little unsure about the mechanics of whatever they end up doing, he’s not at all ashamed of his body. He is, he knows, a reasonably attractive man. He strips without any particular worry, tossing his clothes vaguely towards the basket near the refresher door - tidiness has never been his strong suit, sadly - and turns back to see Finn standing unselfconsciously nude beside the door, folding his pants neatly.

Poe has to stop and stare for a moment, because Finn is - there’s really no other word for it - absolutely _gorgeous_. Poe wants to swoon into his arms, or possibly lick him all over, or possibly just stand there and stare in astonished lust for a while.

Finn puts his pants down on a chair with the rest of his clothing and looks up and smiles, bright and beautiful as the dawn breaking, and Poe’s knees go weak. He sits down hard on the bed. Finn’s smile turns into a quizzical expression, and Poe manages what he suspects is a pale shadow of his usual cocky grin.

“Just being stunned by how lovely you are,” he says, trying to make the words sound light and joking instead of like the absolute truth they are, and Finn’s faint frown turns back into that bright smile.

“Yeah?” he says, sounding very pleased, and crosses the scant space between them in a single stride, and bends down to take Poe’s face in his hands and kiss him thoroughly. Poe thinks that this kiss can be filed neatly into the ‘hungry’ category, and then he doesn’t think very much at all, because he’s too busy being kissed to within an inch of his life.

Poe is honestly a little startled, when Finn finally breaks the kiss, to find that he’s managed to sprawl back onto the bed without noticing. Did he _swoon_? And if so, should he write a letter of apology to that last romance author he was mentally swearing at for having the heroine swoon with desire every five pages?

Finn taps Poe gently on the nose. “You’re thinking too hard,” he says, voice warm with amusement.

Poe grins up at him. “Well, shouldn’t you be doing something about that, then?” he replies, and relishes Finn’s laughter.

“I guess I should,” Finn says, and pins Poe gently to the bed with one broad, warm hand on his chest. “You just hold still and look pretty,” he adds, grinning wider, and Poe squawks indignantly

“I beg your pardon, I _always_ look pretty,” he says, and Finn considers that for a moment and then shrugs and nods.

“Yeah, okay, fair,” he says, and bends down to kiss any possible retort out of Poe’s mind. Poe is gasping when Finn pulls away, and Finn doesn’t go very far, just moves down a little to plant biting kisses down the line of Poe’s throat that make Poe whine and shiver and tilt his head further back to give Finn better access. Finn has already managed to blow all of Poe’s previous kisses completely out of space in comparison, and now - well, Poe has never before felt like his skin was so desperately _hungry_ to be touched. Finn’s hand, still on his chest, feels hot as a brand, but good, so good, and Poe finds himself arching up against it not to escape but just to feel that gentle pressure, that addictive warmth.

He whimpers, very faintly, when Finn bites at the curve of his shoulder, and reaches up to cover his own mouth. Finn tugs his hand away, kisses each finger and puts it back on the bed. “I like to hear,” he says quietly. “It’s how I know if I’m doing it right.”

“Buddy,” Poe says faintly, “I don’t think you could do it _wrong_ at this point.” But he tangles his fingers in the sheets anyway, and when Finn bends to nip again at the unexpectedly sensitive skin at the side of Poe’s neck, Poe lets himself whimper, and feels Finn shiver with what must be satisfaction. Well, alright then, if Finn likes it when his partner makes noise then Poe will _gladly_ make noise. He’s certainly never had trouble running his mouth _before_.

So Finn’s slow progress down Poe’s body - Poe can’t quite help thinking of virgin sacrifices again, though admittedly if being eaten by a dragon was this pleasant there would be lines out the door for the privilege - is accompanied by soft but clear moans and whimpers and occasional sharp cries of astonishment rising unstifled from Poe’s throat.

It’s not that Poe doesn’t know his own body and its responses. He’s a healthy adult man - stars know he’s jerked off enough in his life to know how his body responds to pleasure. He’s watched porn holos now and again, though often with more bafflement than lust, and he knows the mechanics of sex as well as anyone who’s never had any personal experience can. It’s just that - it’s just that apparently there’s an _enormous_ difference between his own half-perfunctory sessions, early mornings in the shower or late at night when he can’t sleep because his brain is too busy, and the attentions of someone who not only knows what he’s doing but is focusing all of his formidable tactical mind on driving Poe _completely insane with pleasure_.

So yes, Poe knew his nipples were reasonably sensitive. He did not know that Finn’s obscenely hot mouth, when applied to them, would make Poe arch up against Finn’s hand and claw at the sheets and make desperate pleading noises deep in his throat that make Finn hum with pleasure. He knew the soft skin of his sides was slightly ticklish - something Jess does _not_ know, thank all the gods there ever were - but not that Finn’s nails, trailing just barely hard enough not to tickle, would make him shudder not to get away but to yearn closer.

He knew that wrapping a hand around his own cock felt good, but that apparently had not prepared him at _all_ for how damned good someone _else’s_ hand - _Finn’s_ hand, dear stars and planets - feels. The shock startles a hoarse cry from him, and Finn chuckles, soft and pleased. “Good?” he asks quietly, and Poe says, a little desperately, “ _Yes_ ,” and makes Finn laugh again.

And then Finn hums, thoughtfully, and Poe pries his eyes open and fumbles for a pillow that he can shove behind his head so he can watch whatever Finn decides to do next - at this point Poe is absolutely sure that whatever Finn picks will be the single best thing Poe has ever felt, and is attempting to mentally prepare himself for it, with what he suspects is limited success. Finn glances up to meet his eyes, and grins, and then bends down and fits his mouth neatly over the head of Poe’s cock, and Poe makes a strangled, desperate sound and grabs at the sheets again in the hopes that if he hangs on tightly enough he won’t come embarrassingly quickly.

Finn chuckles, which makes Poe whimper, and then he moves to pin Poe’s hips gently to the bed and goes cheerfully to town. Poe really can’t do anything but lie there and attempt to writhe in pleasure - not very successfully, given Finn’s strong hands on his hips - and moan helplessly, and occasionally attempt to stifle a very inappropriate chuckle when his traitorous brain supplies him with brief mental images of himself in a romance heroine’s outfit, spread out for the hero’s pleasure and loving every minute.

And then Finn does _something_ incredible and astonishingly obscene with his tongue and Poe comes without even time to give a warning, his startled shout of pleasure echoing from the room’s walls. By the time he’s gotten his brain back together again, Finn is sitting back on his heels looking immensely smug and also, Poe can’t quite help noticing, remarkably aroused, and Poe grins up at him and shakes out his hands from their death-grip on the sheets and says, “Kriffing _hell_ , that was amazing. What can I do for you?”

For the first time, Finn looks a little awkward. “You - don’t have to do anything, I can deal with it myself -” he says, and Poe is having precisely _none_ of that.

“All appearances to the contrary, I am _not_ in fact a romance heroine and I will not swoon dramatically if you ravish me,” he says. “And I would _like_ to do something for you, because stars be my witness, if I can make you feel a _fraction_ as good as you have just made _me_ feel, I will be able to face my ancestors with pride when I die.”

Finn quirks an eyebrow. “Not a romance heroine?” he asks, sounding vastly amused, and Poe realizes that among the many works of literature Finn has devoured since he arrived in the Resistance - he had to do _something_ while bedridden and recuperating, after all - someone must have suggested romances. Which means he knows _exactly_ what Poe meant. Oops?

And then Finn moves, swift and startling, ending up braced above Poe on his hands and knees and grinning down into Poe’s eyes from very close indeed. “So you don’t mind if I ravish you, then?” he asks softly, and Poe’s mouth goes dry.

“Be my guest,” he says faintly. “Open invitation. Ravish away.”

If Poe were still wearing socks, the resulting kiss would have knocked them right off. As it is, his toes curl and he realizes after a moment that he’s clinging to Finn as though Finn is the only stable point in the universe, which, given that it does feel a bit as though the ground has moved beneath him, might actually be true.

And Finn is warm and heavy atop him, moving in slow rolling thrusts that make Poe shiver, his cock rubbing slick and hot against the crease of Poe’s hip. He breaks the kiss to put his head down on the pillow beside Poe’s, close enough that his breath puffs hot against Poe’s shoulder, and then he says, low and rumbling in Poe’s ear so his voice seems to fill the universe, “Next time I _will_ ravish you, then, open you up on my fingers and fuck you till you scream for me again.”

“Oh _stars_ yes,” Poe says, almost involuntarily. “ _Please_.”

“Kriff,” says Finn softly, and Poe feels him come warm and wet and sticky between them.

They lie there for a long moment, panting softly, and then finally Poe says, “Huh. So _that’s_ what all the fuss is about.”

Finn’s shoulders shake as he laughs. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“I’m gonna have to apologize to every romance heroine ever,” Poe says thoughtfully. “That is _definitely_ swoonworthy.”

“I’m glad,” Finn says quietly, and shifts a bit as if to get up. Poe wraps a hand around his arm to stop him.

“Stay tonight,” he says, smiling up into Finn’s lovely eyes. “I know sometimes you won’t be able to, but - stay with me when you can.”

“You’re sure?” Finn asks, looking faintly uncertain. Poe nods firmly.

“Stay,” he says. “Sex is lovely, don’t get me wrong, but I want your _company_ more than anything. I want to sleep with you next to me, and wake up knowing you’re here.”

Finn’s smile is the most beautiful thing Poe’s ever seen. “That sounds - that sounds really good,” he says softly. “Let me just get us cleaned up, then.”

Poe thinks about that for a moment, then grins. “You do know I have a private refresher, right? I am willing to bet quite a bit we could both fit in the shower, if we’re clever about it.”

Finn laughs delightedly as he rolls to his feet, and offers Poe a hand up.

*

They do, in fact, both fit into the shower, though it’s a close thing. Poe takes this prime opportunity to actually get his _hands_ on Finn, using the excuse of washing Finn’s back and then, when Finn turns to kiss him, washing the whole rest of Finn, too. Finn’s skin is warm and smooth beneath his hands, and Finn sighs in contentment, leaning into Poe’s touch with a look of pure bliss on his face that Poe wants to put there as often as possible.

And then, when Finn is as clean as Poe can get him, Finn picks up a bottle of shampoo and gives Poe a speculative look, and Poe laughs and turns so Finn can get at his hair. Finn’s hands are gentle, if clearly inexperienced at this, and Poe keeps his eyes closed and tries not to chuckle too much - what _is_ it about his hair, anyway? It’s not that he _minds_ , he’s just vaguely baffled.

And when they are both clean and dry, Poe slides into bed and shuffles over to make room for Finn, who curls around him, warm and solid and _real_ , and kisses the back of Poe’s neck, and says, softly, into the peaceful darkness of the room, “I do love you, Poe Dameron.”

Poe squirms around so they’re facing each other and kisses Finn as well as he can, using every trick he’s learned thus far. “And I love you,” he replies. “With all my heart.”

“With all I am,” Finn agrees quietly, and they fall asleep like that, breathing the same air, and when Poe wakes, it’s with his beloved’s arms around him - and for all that the war is still ongoing, for Poe it feels like he’s won a victory beyond price.

Even if he does have to apologize to every romance heroine ever written. Finn’s worth it - worth anything and everything, and Poe is, he thinks as Finn blinks himself awake and smiles sweet and sleepy when he sees Poe in his arms, a very lucky man indeed.

And after all, doesn’t every romance heroine deserve a hero? And if there ever was a hero worthy of the name, Poe thinks contentedly, it’s _definitely_ , inarguably Finn.

Poe’s hero, now and always. And there’s the happy ending.

**Author's Note:**

> This will update Thursday and Saturday.
> 
> I'm on tumblr as imaginarygolux if you want to drop by!


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